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It's Fun to Play the Piano ... Please Pass It On!

Thank you, Monica! What a wonderful review! I so much appreciate your very kind words. I had a great time working on that CD. I'm working on a new essay about the recording process, and, as is usually the case, I'm learning a lot about what I think by writing it down.

I like our new wordâ€”Dressini. Is it a cocktail or is it a wardrobe item? You won't see me wearing one, but you might see me drinking one.

My very own wedding anniversary is this weekendâ€”#23. Both my husband and I are working on this dateâ€”he has a concert and I am playing for (drum roll) a wedding.

Robin Meloy Goldsbywww.goldsby.deAuthor of PIANO GIRL: A MemoirRHYTHM: A Novel RMG is a Steinway Artist

Bavarian Wedding Alert!! Nobody ever warns me about these things. I showed up at the castle yesterday to play my nice safe little cocktail gig, and there they were in the garden, under a huge tentâ€”200 Germans in traditional Bavarian outfits. You know you're out of place when you're the only woman in the crowd not wearing a dirndl, a push-up bra, and an apron. The men were all in Lederhosen, checkered shirts, and those little felt hats with feathers in them. They looked like they should be living in a gingerbread house or marching out of a cuckoo clock.

I have competed with jazz bands, DJs, braying men's choirs, and ageing chirps. I have had to go head on with solo saxophone, accordion, and little kids playing the violin. But nothing, and I mean nothing, ever prepared me for the sound of four alphorns filtering (wrong word, I mean exploding) through the open door to the castle terrace. And that was nothing compared to the oompah band, which featured not one, but two tubas. I sent a photo to my husband with the caption: "My competition for this evening." He wrote back and said: "You're gonna loseâ€”hard."

The audio anguish was only slightly worse than the sight of four roasted whole pigs being carried through the lobby and right past the piano. Yikes!

I came home and my husband said I smelled like Sauerkraut.

There was the traditional Bavarian kidnapping of the bride, the drinking of beer in glasses the size of buckets, the linking of arms, and the swaying of bodies in time to the t-t-t-tuba. What a scene. The Bavarian Waltons (a blond family with at least eight kids in matching wool felt jackets) tired of the tent action and planted themselves in the lobby and listened to my music. They ran out of there in an instant when they found out the pig was being carved.

Oh, wait, this was just the rehearsal dinner. The actual wedding took place this afternoon. Heaven only knows what mayhem awaits me on my return this evening.

Robin Meloy Goldsbywww.goldsby.deAuthor of PIANO GIRL: A MemoirRHYTHM: A Novel RMG is a Steinway Artist

Alpenhorns do not sound so bad, if you are far enough away. Those felt jackets and leather shorts are cute. Dirndls can do wonders for the figure; there are persons whose fashion vocabulary begins and ends with the word 'Spandex' who would do well to think on it. And don't try to tell us that you are a stranger to push-up bras. (Even these devices are not so bad, compared to the horrors of the girdle, which is apparently having a comeback. Those fervent prayers from people who wanted to both eat their cake, and have it, have been granted, though as usual there's an unexpected downside. Be careful what you pray for, and especially avoid mentioning the words 'boned,' 'underwire,' or 'stays' in prayer.)

But you're out ahead of all these things, Robin.

Your only real competition, the way I see it, is the four roast pigs. You know, now that you mention it, it's a funny thing, but I once wrote a little tune using the words from the story of the Three Little Pigs. It was the Big, Bad Wolf (wouldn't you know) who drove the action, of course:

It came to me as I was driving the car on some mundane errand, and won't seem to go away.

Before I forget, let me thank you for your story about sauna culture in Germany. Who knew--- though, these things do seem to thrive in especially cold places. The photo illustration far exceeded what I am used to seeing at the YMCA where I go for the sauna, and I am sure the aromatherapy is MUCH preferable. California though it is, our homey little place seems to have been behind the door when the chicte' was being handed out.

I do not believe the problem of barbequed Piggies On Parade--- right through the lobby, no less--- is going to prove at all tractable. You can either keep playing, or join the parade and come back to your duties later (washing your hands before touching the keys, of course). Since the management has allowed the one, they will have to allow the other. They are probably in the parade themselves.

Monica, that photo of Tempest Storm was taken ten years ago, so Tempest was 74. I just saw a recent video of her (2012) and it was very funnyâ€”her voice sounded quite elderly, kind of shaky and thin, but she still had the big red hair, the boobs, and the sequined dress. She was pushing her new line of jeans, of all thingsâ€”which had the back end cut out of themâ€”they were ass-less jeans. And this is what she is marketing at age 84. "Ladies," she said, "You need to show off your figures." I guess that's one way to do it.

A movie from 1955 entitled "Teaserama" and featuring Ms Storm has just come into my possession. She does a sort of reverse striptease - getting out of bed in bra and panties then putting ON various complicated (and quite unnecessary) undergarments, eventually ending up in a sparkly blue evening gown. A bit of rather odd horseplay with the maid, then it's all over.

Tempest is a wonder of the world. I think she might approve of the dirndl-look at the Bavarian wedding. But she would certainly suggest losing the puffy skirts and going with the aprons ONLY. As Tempest herself says:"Ladies, you've got to show off your figures!" Now there's a look: Dirndl, apron, no skirt. Brunhilde Boffs Bavaria. Not so good for playing the piano though. I do enjoy a nice layer of fabric between my backside and the piano bench.

The wedding people had cleared out by the time I returned to work on Saturday evening. They had daytime nuptials and then headed somewhere else for the big dinner. Our castle was too small to handle the huge crowd. Who knows how many more pigs were consumed.

Clef, you are correctâ€”I am no stranger to the push-up bra. But, as other female pianists will verify, these things can present their own challenges. Guests tend to walk to the piano and stop to chat. They are above me, looking down. A little too much "push" in the push-up and June is bustin' out all over.

On Sunday, we got away from roast pigs and corsets and presented a concert at the castle. For the last three years I've been the Artistic Director for a concert series thereâ€”about once a month we present something fabulous! This month we invited Gerald Clayton, in town for an appearance in a big concert hall, to grace our tiny castle salon with his musical magic. He came with his dad, Grammy winning bassist John Clayton, and oh boy, were they ever great!

I am on a little break from work for the next ten days. Headed back to the piano bench on May 24. I'm digging into my new writing project. There might be a bride or two involved. Or a Dressini.

Robin Meloy Goldsbywww.goldsby.deAuthor of PIANO GIRL: A MemoirRHYTHM: A Novel RMG is a Steinway Artist

"...Storm was born Annie Blanche Banks in Eastman, Georgia. By the age of 20, she had already been married and divorced twice and decided to go to Hollywood. Her beauty landed her work as a chorus girl, but her figure, combined with a magnetic stage personality, led her to a highly successful career in burlesque. Her professional debut was at El Rey Theater in Oakland California. She adopted the stage name Tempest Storm circa 1950 and changed it legally in 1957. In 1955, while working at the Tropics Nightclub in Denver, Tempest visited the University of Colorado Boulder campus. All she took off was her mink coat, but this started a near-riot... sparked a "burlesque war" that made it into the pages of LIFE magazine on November 30, 1953... In the late 1950s, her breasts - "moneymakers" as she called them - were insured by Lloyds of London for one million dollars. She acted in several motion pictures both as herself and in a character role..."

The photo with the article is worth some attention. No silicone, no underwires, and if she's had a lift she spent good money on it, because it sure doesn't show. Could be there's some hair color and a perm, or a wig... but these are modest enough when ladies one-fifth her age wouldn't even go to the supermarket without them. And after all, she is a natural redhead.

What a fortunate person, to have found her true calling in life, and to have enjoyed it for so long.

When I was working with Tempest (isn't it fabulous to be able to say that?), I witnessed a "mink coat drop" that I will never ever forget. It was New year's Eve at the Folly Theater in Kansas City. Outside of theater there was a traditional ball-dropping ceremonyâ€”in fact everyone called this area the "Times Square of the Midwest." The cast of our show was asked to be outside shortly before midnight. We were booked there for another month and the producer thought having us attend the ball-drop would generate some good press. We had done two shows that night, we were tired, and it was freezing cold outside, but,being dutiful minions of the stage, outside we headed, still in our costumes and make-up, spackled and sequined.

The countdown started. TEN, NINE, EIGHT . . .

Thousands of people stood in the square, shivering and waiting the ring in the new year.

SEVEN, SIX . . . we all counted together . . . .

The stage door flew open, and out came Tempest, doing The Walk. And wearing the famous white mink coat.

Silently, the crowd parted for her, and she sauntered to the center of the square, where she stood under the ball.

Five, FOUR, THREE . . .

A few people were still counting, but most of us were standing there with our mouths hanging open.

Tempest turned her back to the crowd.

TWO, ONE . . .

And then, just as the ball dropped, Tempest, her back to us, dropped her mink coat. I'd like to say she was naked, but she was wearing a backless gold sequined dress, cut so low that she might as well have been naked.

The crowd gasped. I can still hear that soundâ€”that big collective intake of freezing January air.

Tempest completely upstaged the dropping of the ball. She turned around quietly, waved one graceful arm, and shouted "Happy New Year, Kansas City!" Then she slinked back to the stage door and disappeared into the darkness.

How's that for stealing the show? We sold out the next sixteen shows.

Robin Meloy Goldsbywww.goldsby.deAuthor of PIANO GIRL: A MemoirRHYTHM: A Novel RMG is a Steinway Artist

Tempest Storm gets mentioned favorably in the current issue of The New Yorker (May 13, 2013) in an article ("Take it Off") about the "new burlesque" movement in New York. Based on the article, I'd opt for the old burlesque, but that's just me...

First it was Filene's Basement. Then it was discount wedding gowns at former grocery stores--- over on the wrong side of town, but such great deals. Then came (a really bad idea) "Bridezillas." And now, here we are at the brokerage which sells cancelled weddings. I expect any time now we'll have Divorce Insurance bundled into our homeowner and auto coverage... but that is an unhappy idea.

I hope the CNBC link works for you, but I've added in the text, just in case. It is a short--- but telling--- item. And while we're on the subject, how is that line of wedding wear, designed by Tempest, coming along? I would like to see the ad for her creations modeled on television IF THEY DARE.

"Getting left at the altar is bad enough, but it's even worse if you're also stuck holding the bag filled with bills.

"One website is helping would-be brides cut their losses if their weddings are called it off. Couples can lose thousands of dollars in deposits on reception halls, flowers, photographers and more.

"If you're a bride you can go ahead and log on and you'll be able to see if there are open wedding dates that have been called off or if there are vendors in your area that have open weddings that they would like to sell off at a discount," said Lauren Byrne, founder of BridalBrokerage.com.

"We figured it was a no-brainer to get a prepaid package, and it was kind of all planned out, so it was easier and cost effective," Wakefield said. "I think it was just really easy, it took the headache away from me."

"Wakefield found a canceled $12,000 package that was on sale through the brokerage for $7,900.

"Wakefield ended up way ahead the game considering the average U.S. couple spent $25,656 for their wedding in 2012, according to research company Wedding Report.

"Since we're saving so much money, I can splurge on some other things," Wakefield said.

"The brokerage attracts deal seekers, along with "non-planners, and those on accelerated timelines, including active deployment and pregnancies," according to the website. Most couples who buy canceled weddings are still able to choose their own food, colors, flowers and cake, depending on how close it is to the wedding date. In some cases, they incur extra fees for changes or upgrades to the originally purchased package.

"It's a win for everyone," said Lauren Jennings, the general manager of Wedgewood Wedding & Banquet Center. "For the venue, we now have a wedding that we were hoping for on a particular date. The old bride who canceled, she now gets a portion of her money back that she paid. For the new bride, she gets an amazing deal for her wedding."

I just figured out the reason for the lack of weddings this yearâ€”seems our young brides are superstitious about the number 2013. Go figure.

This brokerage thing is a riot, Clef! I actually know someone who cancelled her wedding (with good reason) and lost 100% of everything her parents had paid. I think the parents should have found some other reason to throw a party, since they were paying for it anyway. But I guess they weren't in a celebrating mood.

I am playing for a wedding on Saturday evening. During the dinner, I'm trading sets with a string quartet. Should be a nice evening. I am hoping for a bridal party outfitted in Tempest Storm Bridal Wear. After last month's Dressini, anything is possible.

I just returned from a very nice visit to the USA where I hung out with my parents for a few weeks. My dad the drummer, almost 80, is still playing gigs. What fun it is to trade war stories with him. 65 years in the businessâ€”you can imagine the things he remembers. Heck, he even played for Tempest back in the good old Burlesque days. He is the master of dirty drumming.

Robin Meloy Goldsbywww.goldsby.deAuthor of PIANO GIRL: A MemoirRHYTHM: A Novel RMG is a Steinway Artist

FRIDAYOh, dear. Friday's wedding at the castle involved fisticuffs. I was there, playing in the lobby for my regular customers, not for the pink lace and tuxedo-ed crowd hanging out in the back salon. The bride, who looked very beautiful, was NOT HAPPY, not one bit. Evidently she was complaining about everything to anyone who would listen.

Police were called. The Best Man had swung (literally) from the two chandeliers in the suite and ripped them right out of the ceiling, taking down a lot of plaster with them. Then he kicked in the door of a 500 year old armoire.

The wife did not press charges, but did ask to be moved to another room. The Best Man sobered up when he saw the police and agreed to behave and pay for the damages.

The bride, she of the bad mood, gave the hotel staff a huge tip the next morning. My guess is that she KNEW the Best Man was trouble right from the start, and that's why she was so miserable.

SATURDAYMuch better. The shattered glass and plaster dust had been swept away to make way for Saturday's June bride, a lovely woman in her fifties who wore a giant white pouffy dress and roses in her hair. I was hired to play for dinner, trading sets with a string quartet. What an easy evening for me. It went as well as these things can go, until I went to the ladies room. There I was, taking care of business in the toilet stall (my daughter calls this ladies' room "The Queen's Potty") when I heard two of our well-heeled wedding guests complain about the music.

"So boring. We can't even dance."

"A string quartet? It's so old-fashioned? Blah, blah. Strauss, blah."

"And you'd think that pianist could at least play some Alicia Keys. Or some boogie-woogie."

Well. I ripped out of that toilet stall just as fast as I could, just so they would know that I had heard them. They completely panicked when they saw me, which, I must admit, gave me great pleasure. There was no slapping, but I considered it.

"Don't worry, ladies," I said. "The DJ will be starting soon. Celebration time, come on!! All the boring music will be over soon."

I flicked the water from my hands and made a dramatic exit, leaving the two of them standing there with their Estee Lauder compacts at half mast.

When I returned to the dining room the String Quartet had sequed from Strauss into a dramatic version of "Swanee," which might be the last thing I'd expect to hear played by a string quartet at a castle in Germany.

For some reason there were three DJs hired for the night, which seemed a little excessive for a party of 53. I left at 11:00, just when all the fun was beginning.

And that's all I know.

Robin Meloy Goldsbywww.goldsby.deAuthor of PIANO GIRL: A MemoirRHYTHM: A Novel RMG is a Steinway Artist

I flicked the water from my hands and made a dramatic exit, leaving the two of them standing there with their Estee Lauder compacts at half mast.

Awesome story. Most people think of what they should have said later and kick themselves, but you rose to the occasion and handled it right then. They didn't know who they were messing with!

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When I returned to the dining room the String Quartet had sequed from Strauss into a dramatic version of "Swanee," which might be the last thing I'd expect to hear played by a string quartet at a castle in Germany.

Wierdest thing I heard in Germany was a wind band in Munich playing the American march "Them Basses" at breakneck speed.

I googled it and found that it was written by Getty Herschel Huffine, who to my surprise turns out to be a real person. I had always believed Them Basses to be a Henry Fillmore march. Fillmore wrote marches so prolifically he used a number of pseudonyms to get more sales past school boards.

Well thanks, Tim. Not so long ago I would have gotten flustered by that ladies' room situation. But being 55 does have its advantages!

Oh my, "Them Basses?" That's a riot!

I once heard the marching band at Buckingham Palace (during the changing of the guard ceremony) play "Tie a Yellow Ribbon." I stood there thinking, WHAT??? I came all this way to hear a Tony Orlando cover?

Let's see what the next weekend brings.

Robin Meloy Goldsbywww.goldsby.deAuthor of PIANO GIRL: A MemoirRHYTHM: A Novel RMG is a Steinway Artist

I once heard the marching band at Buckingham Palace (during the changing of the guard ceremony) play "Tie a Yellow Ribbon." I stood there thinking, WHAT??? I came all this way to hear a Tony Orlando cover?

I heard the Coasters' "Charlie Brown" in German at Oktoberfest in Munich.

"Charlie Braun, Charlie Braun, du bist Clown..."

...or something like that.

My wife and I nearly lost our composure when the "Why's everybody always pickin' on me" part came around. I wish I had the lyrics. As I remember it, the words were a less-then-perfect rhythmic fit.

So, the groom's best friend bitch-slaps his wife right in front of all the in-laws, pink lace or not, during his speech at the wedding dinner--- do I have this right--- who will all meet again in divorce court, where there will be voluble testimony and their wedding videos will be replayed into the court record. The Best Man will be even more sober, and he will pay even higher damages, both actual and punitive (we will set aside child support for the time.) Institutions such as emergency rooms, castles, lathers, hairburners and art restorers will testify.

"...Police were called. The Best Man had swung (literally) from the two chandeliers in the suite and ripped them right out of the ceiling, taking down a lot of plaster with them. Then he kicked in the door of a 500 year old armoire.

"The wife did not press charges, but did ask to be moved to another room. The Best Man sobered up when he saw the police and agreed to behave and pay for the damages.

"The bride... gave the hotel staff a huge tip the next morning. My guess is that she KNEW the Best Man was trouble right from the start..."

I guess she did--- in fact, I'll bet she knows some other evil people, as well. Some evil guest has already posted this to YouTube, so if you have any clues about the keywords, pass it along. Now that we know the backstory, I imagine we can get the gist, even in German.

These small fry of Deportment Court don't usually get picked by by the television services, but this dance doesn't have too many more steps before it becomes a capital case.

I knew you'd have something to say about the bitch slap incident, Clef! I'll be looking for video and you'll be the first to know should I find it!

Last night's wedding was completely elegant. Oh, the clothes! I played for the cocktail reception and a jazz quartet had the dinner music/dancing gig. I didn't get to hear the band play, but I was pleased the bride didn't go the DJ route and hired real musicians.

I did have a little altercation with the videographer and his assistant, whom I shall call Justin and Jason Bieberâ€”these two were big boys in black, and had more equipment than I've ever seen at a wedding. Lights. reflectors, dolly tracks, and about a thousand microphones. This castle is on the small sideâ€”we can't accommodate more than 120 guests in the salon or the main hallâ€”and J & J had enough stuff to film the sequel to Avatar. They immediately started shouting at each other and attaching numerous microphones to the piano. I have learned to just say NO, no microphones on the piano, because it inevitably just sounds bad. What I do instead is offer the video team a CD, which they can then mix into their audio trackâ€”sounds much better and I don't have to spend the evening with a team of techies hovering around the piano.

Anyway, J & J wouldn't hear any of it. They were so young, these two, that they probably didn't even own a CD player.

Speaking of which, here is a link to a little essay I wrote about the making of my new CD, Magnolia. It was kind of a family affair.

Okay, I have to admit it. I went to the Barbra Streisand concert last night here in Cologne. The tickets were a gift from my husband, who knew a bunch of musicians in her 60 piece orchestra. Oh, she had a 50 piece choir as well. They joined her for one Leonard Bernstein number. The concert was over the top and wonderful and everything you would expect. Life affirming. She radiates positive energy.

And when was the last time anyone saw a singer with a symphony orchestra and a 50-piece choir in a stadium? Doesn't happen so often these days. Bless her for hiring all those musicians!

Why do we love her so much, aside from the fact that she has one heck of a set of pipes? I think it's because she's an oddball who found a place for herself in this world by following her passion.

And she sang the most beautiful of all weddings songs: "Evergreen"

Did I cry? Yes. Old cynical Piano Girl lost it, folks. "On a Clear Day" almost killed me. So did "People." But my daughter cried, too (she was with me), and she doesn't carry my musical baggageâ€”I have suitcases full of memories attached to Streisand songs. Julia was just moved by the gorgeousness of that orchestra and the singer, who is, in case you don't know, 71 years old.

Wow. What a career. What a talent. What an inspiration. Go, Barbra, go.

Robin Meloy Goldsbywww.goldsby.deAuthor of PIANO GIRL: A MemoirRHYTHM: A Novel RMG is a Steinway Artist

Last night's castle bride was beautiful. So were the guests, including the two toddler-aged flower girls who seemed more inclined to throw gravel from the outdoor path than the petals from their baskets. They girls were tinyâ€”I doubt they hit anyone higher than shin levelâ€”so no harm done.

Has anyone ever experienced a flower-girl/ring bearer under the age of five who could actually perform his/her task without causing just a little bit of a scene? I doubt it.

Anyway, it was a peaceful eveningâ€”no slapping, no swinging from chandeliers or armoire bashing, no police action or room swapping, no angry brides or middle-aged bridesmaids wearing Dressinis.

Even the weather cooperated, which, with this year's temperamental rain clouds, is somewhat miraculous.

Robin Meloy Goldsbywww.goldsby.deAuthor of PIANO GIRL: A MemoirRHYTHM: A Novel RMG is a Steinway Artist

"...Has anyone ever experienced a flower-girl/ring bearer under the age of five who could actually perform his/her task without causing just a little bit of a scene? I doubt it..."

Of course not--- that is why they hire them. If someone is going to cause a scene at a wedding, let it be an adorable little miniature ring bearer and not the bride, the groom, the preacher, or a member of the audience who cannot forever hold his peace.

But we need not go into all that. Some charming little byplay by the most junior member of the wedding will be quite fine, as long as the ring is safety-pinned to the satin pillow--- and no, velcro is not enough.

This precaution must never be overlooked, now that so many churches have air-conditioner vents in the floor.

Tonight's wedding features 120 guests, an Asian bride, and a German groom, both of whom are very attractive (I met them last night at the pre-nuptial feast). Sorry to say, it looks like it will be a very civilized affair. As we approach our 1,000,000 hit on "Let's Talk Weddings" I was hoping for a grand story to help us all celebrate. But who knows? The night is young.

Robin Meloy Goldsbywww.goldsby.deAuthor of PIANO GIRL: A MemoirRHYTHM: A Novel RMG is a Steinway Artist

It's noisy. Really noisy. Over a hundred people huddle in the lobby, many of whom haven't seen each other for a long time. Shouts of joy, shrieks of elation and delight echo through the granite-lined hall. The bride has changed from her Gone-with-the-Wind gown into a slinky sequined little dress. She is beautiful and radiant and all of the things brides are supposed to be. The groom is dapper and dashing and shows no signs of excessive alcohol consumption.

Aside from the noise, so far so good.

A Tempest Storm wannabe, wearing a bright white pantsuit, lurks by the piano, her bright yellow hair cranked up on top of her head. There's room for a Slovenian family of four in that hair. Her heels are too high, her pants are too tight, her jewelry too flashy. Joan Collins without the sex appeal. She could be a man, but I don't think so. She is too, too, too everything. All of this is fine, entertaining even, except for her voice. For whatever reason she shouts every single word of her conversation. She has one of those "acoustic miracle" voicesâ€”it cuts through the thick air in the castle and grates on my ears, like a soprano singing a quarter tone sharp. It is really bad. Torturous. She insists on standing right next to me, one hand resting on the piano, as if she might break into song at any moment. God help us.

"PLAY CATS," she shouts at me.

I play 'Memory." She starts scream-talking again to her friends, something about a chicken recipe, and I find myself playing louder and louder in an attempt to drown out her voice. It's like I'm making Andrew Lloyd Weber white noise (there's a joke there somewhere, but I'll show some restraint).

"PLAY CATS," she screams again.

"I just did." I'm shouting back at herâ€”it's like a defense instinct.

"WHAT A PITY," she screams. "YOU DON'T PLAY LOUDLY ENOUGH FOR ANYONE TO HEAR YOU. PLAY IT AGAIN AND I'LL SIT RIGHT NEXT TO YOU AND LISTEN."

She shifts her skinny butt onto the bench beside me. And proceeds to yap at me the entire time I am playing round two of "Memory."

"I LIKE THE PART WITH THE OLD CAT, WHEN SHE SINGS THAT MOONLIGHT SONG AT THE END. WE SAW IT IN HAMBURG AND MY HUSBAND DIDN'T LIKE THE SHOW ONE BIT, BUT THEN AGAIN HE'S MORE OF A DOG PERSON THAN A CAT PERSON PLUS HE DOESN'T LIKE SHOWS WHERE PEOPLE DRESS UP LIKE ANIMALS."

It goes on like this for three or four minutes. I play; she shouts. It's me and a seven foot grand piano against a double-spanxed seventy-year old woman with a voice that could be used as a lethal weapon. I am losing.

Finally, finally, the guests are called outside for photos. Still perched on my bench, she touches up her lipstick, pats her high-hair, and adjusts her bra straps.

"DON'T WORRY, DARLING," she bellows. "I'LL BE BACK. AND THEN YOU CAN PLAY THE CAT SONG FOR ME. THE ONE ABOUT THE OLD CAT.

"I just played it for you. The second time."

"YOU POOR THING," she says. "NO ONE CAN HEAR YOU."

It's time for a drink.

Robin Meloy Goldsbywww.goldsby.deAuthor of PIANO GIRL: A MemoirRHYTHM: A Novel RMG is a Steinway Artist

The Medical Examiner notes ligature marks on the murder victim's scrawny neck, which has been wrung. "Catgut," he muses. The glaringly obvious connections (to us) go right over his head, which could point straight to the String section--- I'm thinking, the larger instruments; nothing smaller than a cello--- or really, any musician who plays music with ties and slurs. In other words, all of us.

"And look here!" he exclaims to his Assistant Medical Examiner and the loose handful of police standing by (not too close). "The tongue has been pulled right out by the roots."

The loose handful of police take another step back, lest the ME discover it, and brandish it for their examination. A crime of passion, or a public service? They will never decide; the case file remains open in future years. The culprit never feels guilty enough to come forward to confess.

And there we leave it.

Oh--- yes, the wedding. Well, that turned out ok. In that big, rambling castle, the body was not discovered until the wedding was long over and the bill paid. The newlyweds were well out of reach on a distant tropical island, so it had no effect at all upon them.

And speaking of Storms, today is the date of decease--- some years back; no need to get out the Kleenex--- of actress and singer, Gale Storm (no relation to Tempest, other than as soul sisters of the entertainment tribe). Readers who were watching television in the late 1950's might remember her successful series, "The Gale Storm Show," in which (if I remember) she was the Recreation Director on a cruise liner, with Zazu Pitts as her wing man. No I'm not making this up. It was a fun little show, that's what I remember.

"... Joan Collins without the sex appeal. She could be a man, but I don't think so. She is too, too, too everything. All of this is fine, entertaining even, except for her voice. For whatever reason she shouts every single word of her conversation..."

There are people who talk on their cell phones that way. They'll step away and turn their backs for privacy, then scream every word into the phone. So it's all for nothing. I suspect they scream because they feel that others habitually ignore what they have to say. A neurosis no doubt rooted in childhood experiences; in other words, the apple doesn't fall far from the tree.

But what I wanted to tell you, is that there was a bar, owned by a militant drag queen, right around the corner on Hyde Street in San Francisco, with that very name: "The Two Two Two Club." Its address--- and how convenient--- but I never thought of it any way other than as "The Too Too Too Club." So emblematic of the very soul of San Francisco, and with a neon sign, too.

Clef, if I ever make it to your neck of the woods, we will meet at the Two Two Two Bar. That place was obviously named for us.

You've written a lot of very funny posts, but this latest piece is priceless. What a plot for one of those who-done-it television shows. Piano player snaps and goes for the jugular. I'd watch it just for the outfits. And also to see exactly how the Food and Beverage Manager would react. Would he close the place? Would he buy a round of drinks for the witnesses and offer the police a bowl of smoked almonds? Hard to say. As you know from Piano Girl, I've actually watched F&B people handle death. It's not pretty. There's no predicting what one of these guys will do when coping with a corpse in the cocktail lounge.

At last night's festivities I had to do battle with the "Comedy Brass Band," a band title that seems a little redundant if you ask meâ€”there's already something pretty comedic about a brass band playing at a German wedding reception. Their first number was Pink Panther (maybe the bride requested this?), and I have to say they sounded great. Tuba, French horn, trombone, two trumpets. I think the comedy part was the costuming. They were wearing tails with stocking caps and slippers. The female musician (the horn player) was dressed like a hooker from 1940.

I know some of you think I make this stuff up, but it's all 100% true. Too bad the Cats lady wasn't around for the Comedy Brass Band. I'm going back in tonight. Another bride, another musical adventure.

Robin Meloy Goldsbywww.goldsby.deAuthor of PIANO GIRL: A MemoirRHYTHM: A Novel RMG is a Steinway Artist